


Out Of Sync

by supernatasha



Category: Twisted (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Does Rico even have a last name?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Why aren't more people writing about this pairing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernatasha/pseuds/supernatasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the Jo he knows. She hasn't been in weeks. </p><p>His first kiss, his first fumbling magnificent kiss with the girl of his dreams, and he’s the one who ends it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of Sync

A girl in a too-large sweatshirt sits in the corner booth by herself, a plate of uneaten pie before her, hair a curtain over her face. He looks around and there are no other empty places, just the one across from her. He feels sweat gather in his palms and struggles to keep his grip on the sandwich and drink he ordered.

Nervously, he approaches the girl and asks, “Can I sit with you?”

She looks up and _oh._ She’s beautiful, but she looks lost. She peers at him with huge blue eyes, and her cupid’s-bow lips say, “Okay, I guess.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Heart rate quick, he slides in with his food and Dr. Pepper.

“I think I’ve seen you around school. You’re the new kid, right?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s totally creepy. I didn’t really want to move in the middle of 6th grade but my mom got a new job and…” he shrugs. “Wasn’t much of a choice from there.”

“That sucks,” she chews on her bottom lip, then adds, “I sit behind you in history.”

“Oh?” He picks at the crust of his whole grain bread. “Why are you here by yourself?”

“My friend… she was supposed to meet me,” the girl’s face falls as she continues, “I don’t know where she is. I guess she’s not coming.”

He points at her pie. “Are you going to eat that?”

She shakes her head and pushes the plate toward him. He reaches for it uncertainly but she doesn’t seem to mind. The door of the diner chimes and a police officer stands at the front.

“I have to go, that’s my dad,” the girl says, getting out of the booth. A shy smile spreads over her face. “It was nice to meet you. I’m Jo.”

“Maybe I’ll see you!” As she’s leaving, he calls, “My name’s Rico!”

Half of the diner stares at him and he can feel his face burn. Jo turns to wave and giggles on her way out.

 

 

The diner used to be their place. Now it’s tainted. They sit across from each other uncomfortable, homework spread out between them on the stained Formica table like a barrier of numbers and words. The quiet is nearly deafening. It didn’t used to be like this.

“What’d you get for the last one?” Jo breaks the silence.

“Um. Diction.”

“No, for geometry.”

Rico scrambles through his notebooks. He had thought they were doing English. They’re completely out of sync these days, when she’s off with Danny and he’s still… doing the same old stupid things, studying and feeling inadequate. His vision blurs the slightest bit when he reads out loud, “Negative infinity, comma, three point eight.”

“What the _fuck_?” She stares down at her paper. “I didn’t get anything even close to that.”

“You just have to-”

“I don’t actually care,” Jo interrupts him. She slams her textbook shut and leans back, cracked leather making noises beneath her as she shifts to put her stuff in her backpack. When had their poor diner aged so much? Jo repeats, “I really don’t care. I don’t want to do this.”

Sure, she’s been acting strange since Danny got back- but this is even weirder. Nothing like Jo at all. “What do you want to do? AP Enviro?”

“No, Rico. I don’t want to do schoolwork. I want to fuck.”

“You _what?_ ” Rico squeaks.

“Do you want to go back to my house and have sex? My mom’s at her art class and my dad’s not going to be back until night.” Jo checks the time on her cell phone, completely nonchalant as if discussing SAT practice. Actually, she’d probably be more nervous about the SATs. “We have at least a few hours. Wanna go?”

He swallows hard, ears nearly ringing. He thinks he preferred the silence to this conversation. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

She narrows her eyes, lines appearing on her forehead. “Hint: I’m not.” She gets up, shouldering her backpack and pulling her jacket tighter. “C’mon.”

As she walks away, Rico clears his own work with trembling fingers, uncertainty making him clumsy. He follows her out the diner into the cold air, keeping up with her long strides. “Wait, Jo, slow down. What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer him, increases pace until all he can see are bouncing curls and his own breath visible as he practically jogs behind her. At her street, he waits for her to unlock the front door, fidgeting and blowing into his hands to keep himself warm.

He feels like it’s been forever since he’s been in the Masterson house. Her mom’s moved some picture frames around and the rocking chair in the living room is unfamiliar. The heat of the house is welcoming and he takes a moment to thaw his frozen muscles before trailing Jo to her room. She throws her backpack to the floor, followed by her sweatshirt.

A moment later, she turns to him. With no warning, her lips come crashing up to his, pulling off his messenger bag, jacket falling to the floor in a heap, tugging at the hem of his shirt with one hand while the other tangles in his hair. Jo’s lips are soft and pliant, her tongue is fierce against his mouth. It’s all too fast.

Rico pulls away, breathing hard and stills her wandering hands. His first kiss, his first fumbling magnificent kiss with the girl of his dreams, and he’s the one who ends it. “Stop. Just stop it for a minute. Jo, are you okay?”

“Do I seem _not_ okay?” She asks. Her expression is challenging.

For the slightest moment, Rico misses the warmth of her skin and he’s sorry for asking. Then he answers honestly, “No, you don’t. That’s why I asked.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why are you… why are you asking me to…” Rico finds himself blushing, unable to repeat the offer with her previous candor. He changes course, “I thought you liked Danny.”

“I did. I thought I did. But now Danny likes Lacey and I like you.”

And there it is. Rico staggers back under the weight of her words. He shakes his head and sits back on her bed, knees weak. He’s been trying so hard to understand that he is no longer the only one in her life, that Jo was being pulled by her old best friends, but it was hard to share her attention when he was constantly out of the loop.

“Rico? What is it?”

“You don’t like me. I mean, yeah you like me, but you don’t _actually_ like me. You’re just hurt. You only want me so you can, I don’t know, get back at Danny or get over him, something like that. But you’re clearly not in a good place right now and you’re going to end up doing something you regret.”

Jo’s jaw twitches, nostrils flaring. “You think sleeping with you is a bad idea? What, I’m too emotional to make any decisions?”

That’s exactly what he thinks. A wave of anger comes down over him. “I’m not stupid, Jo,” he says bitterly. “I know you don’t find me attractive.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” she says it softly and her voice cracks.

When Rico looks up, her blue eyes are wet. Shit. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He stands and hugs her, wrapping both arms around her frame like old times, like before Danny and before things got complicated, when they were just two friends who studied together at the diner. “It’s okay, Jo. You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispers. “I want to. You’re, well, you’re my best friend. You’re always there to comfort me and I really need comfort now.”

“Comfort, not sex,” he tells her.

She stares up at him. “No. I want sex. If I wanted comfort, I would’ve put on a movie and made popcorn. Stop trying to invalidate my feelings just because you don’t understand them.”

“I’m not, that’s not,” Rico breaks off in frustration. “ _You_ don’t even understand your feelings!”

Jo presses closer and kisses him again, and Rico can feel his resolve crumble. “I understand this. I understand us.”

 _No, you don’t,_ Rico thinks to himself, but he responds to her kiss. He lets her unbutton his jeans, then her own, and feels the tug of the fabric sliding down his thighs. She pulls him forward, standing on both tiptoes, until they reach the bed.

“I brought condoms,” Jo mumbles, breaking off for a moment, one hand digging through the drawer beside her bed, the other at the waistband of his boxers. The image of Jo standing in CVS while the cashier rang up a pack of condoms is either the funniest thing Rico’s imagined or the saddest. He doesn’t dwell on it when Jo shoves the foil packet in his hands. “Here. Put it on.”

“What? Myself?” He’s never even held a condom before, let alone worn one.

She narrows her eyes. “You want me to do it?”

On second thought, that’s probably a worse idea. She turns away, presumably to give him privacy.

_What privacy? We’re about to have sex._

He stares blatantly when Jo pulls her shirt up and unclasps her bra. Rico gets a glimpse of curvy breasts and rosebud nipples before she gets into bed and pulls the sheets up. He quickly looks down at the silver Durex packet and tears at the jagged edge. It comes away cleanly. He knows how sex works in theory and he’s watched plenty of porn to know the basics, but he still hesitates.

“Jo, are you sure you want this?”

“I swear, can you stop fucking doing that?” She turns to him, frustration on her features. “Do _you_ not want this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But not if you’re using me as a replacement for Danny!” he snaps. He feels the blunt edge of his words in the frigid air. He thinks he should regret saying it, but it’s really too late now. He lifts his face to meet her gaze, feeling heat rise into his cheeks.

To his surprise, Jo doesn’t look angry or defensive. She just looks… tired. For the first time, Rico notices the dark circles under her eyes, the way her pale skin is stretched tight over her gaunt cheekbones. “Okay, Rico. I’m an emotional wreck and I should be used to being rejected. You win. Congratulations. Go home.” She turns her back to him and burrows deeper under the sheets.

Frozen in his spot, Rico wants to say something, to apologize, but his throat is parched and he doesn’t know how to form words anyway, not now, not like this. _I didn’t want us to be like this. I didn’t want Jo and me to be like this._  

Rico approaches the bed and pulls up the sheets. Leaving the condom on the table, he slides under the quilt behind Jo and moves closer, aware of his erection pressing against her. Rico rests his chin on her neck and she smells like she always does: like her citrus-y body wash and the deodorant she wears and _Jo._

Her skin is smooth, inviting. Rico reaches down and touches the place between her neck and back with gentle lips. She squirms, her warm feet against his cold ones, and Rico kisses higher, behind her ear, just before her hairline. She sighs something soft and desolate and turns to face him.

She catches his next kiss with her lips. Her tongue in his mouth is alive, sucking and catching his tongue, rough and angry.

“Please, Rico,” she murmurs against his jaw. He knows what she’s asking and he nods to the wordless plea. He grabs the packet back from the table and manages to put the condom on under the sheets.

Positioned above her between opened legs, Rico leaves small kisses down her neck, rolling a nipple between his finger and thumb so she gasps with each pinch. He enters her wet warmth slowly, watching pink lips part and eyelids flutter shut. He draws back and moves again, waiting for any sign: a flinch, a wince. But when Jo’s eyes open, they’re filled with desire and she clutches at his back to pull him closer, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Is this okay?” Rico whispers.

She nods and he begins moving his hips in earnest, in developing rhythm. Jo meets his thrusts with her own, finding the pace. Stifled moans escape her throat. Rico feels a thrill go through him when he realizes they are no longer out of sync: here they were now, perfectly in time. He climaxes first with a groan, muscles quaking, inhaling her scent.

“Keep going,” Jo breathes. “Almost there.”

Rico pulls out, skin sensitive, his hands instead against her clit. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but Jo moans and comes within a few seconds. Her legs tremble and she relaxes back into her sheets.

Breathing hard, he mumbles, “Trash can?”

“Under the bed, your side,” Jo tells him. Her eyes are closed and limbs loose, hair a halo against the pillows. She looks completely at peace. Rico hadn’t even realized she was so tense. Once he gets rid of the condom, Rico returns to her side and puts his arms around her.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” she answers, comfortable in his embrace. Her bright blue eyes study him intently. “Are you?”

“I think so. I don’t know. Should I be?”

Jo snuggles against his chest. “Yes. You should be more than okay.”

“Am I still a replacement?”

“Shut up,” she says. It’s not quite the answer he expects- well, he doesn’t quite know what he _had_ expected- but it’s also a pretty clear command.

So Rico quiets himself and pulls her closer. The conversation, whenever they do decide to have it, would be uncomfortable. He isn’t tall or mysterious, he isn’t nearly as handsome, he doesn’t play soccer or wear tight shirts that show off his unformed body. He isn’t Danny and he knows that means he isn’t what Jo wants, but for now he doesn’t care.

All he cares about is the feel of Jo against him, her heartbeat echoed back in his ribcage. And even though Rico wants more, for now this is enough. He is enough.

After all, she was still the girl he met years earlier who hid herself behind golden hair and too-large sweatshirts, mourning the loss of friends who abandoned her. That girl had thought he was enough and so did this one.

Perhaps some things were never meant to change.


End file.
